Blend

04:00 | running down the court

THE SECOND Kaycee pulls up, I'm out of the vehicle, running with everything I got.

Memories of me running down the court—only a minute left on the clock—flash through my mind. 

I start to sweat and pant before I remember my training. Inhale through the nose and release out the mouth. Full, even breaths.

My eyes take in each building that flies right past me. And I'm especially aware that I'm wearing nothing but jeans and a shirt—no hoodie for blending in this time.

I check my phone as I turn a corner. Still no reply from Devyn. My stomach twists into lumps. And to make matters worse, the people I'm passing are starting to figure out who I am. They point and whisper. One of them whips out their phone to either blast me on TikTok or call the police.

Ignoring the attention, I continue to run like my life depends on it—and it actually does. This isn't a basketball court and there isn't an actual buzzer, but the sweat dripping off my face and the way my heart is racing is testimony to how much I need to get to Devyn before Ben does something. And I can't help feeling that itch to win—to come out ballin' like a champion just like I do on the court.

After another hard jog down west campus, I realize I'm going the wrong way. I curse under my breath and back up, accidentally colliding right into someone.

Despite the fact I'm a jail escapee, I apologize profusely because I'm big and this person is so small. I help her to her feet and immediately spaz.

She's still 5'3 with neck-length chestnut hair and wild green eyes. Eyes I used to love. Eyes I used to think loved me back. 

"Holy shit, it is you," Abby says in reverence. "I didn't believe Melanie. She texted that you were running around on campus in plain sight."

"Yeah. Watch out." I try to sidestep her but Abby blocks me. 

"Ace, baby. What are you doing? Turn yourself in. It'll be easier for you that way."

"Why?" I walk toward her angrily. "So you can keep spewing lies about me to the police?"

For a moment she swallows, almost like she's afraid of me. I mean shit, people are watching our exchange and Abby knows she has to stay in character. The little girl who cried wolf and all that.

Whatever.

I ain't got time for this drama.

Devyn matters way more.

"Move outta the way!" I snap.

Abby shakes her head, taking out her phone. "I'm calling the cops."

I bump past her but then decide to come back. This is something I've been dreaming to say and do since the moment I learned she betrayed me.

"You know something? I wish I could see your face the moment the whole world learns I didn't fuckin' do it. Because then they'll all know how much of a liar you are and how you were only looking to gain followers. How are you gonna get on TikTok and spread lies about our relationship like that? I was nothing but loyal, nothing but faithful, and I'd rather chop my own arm off before it ever hurt anyone. You know this."

She swallows, taken aback. The crowd grows larger, filming the exchange.

I try my best to manage the emotion rising in my chest. "The worst part is that I really thought you loved me the whole time we were together. But you're as fake as Hollywood makes 'em, Abby. So fake, you'll come crawling back when this is all over, hoping to resume that NBA wifey dream of yours. But you know what? The only thing you'll ever get from me is this—" I hold up two middle fingers as I start a backwards jog. 

Abby's demeanor shifts from shock to offense. She sputters back something unintelligible, but I'm already flying down the court, ready to make my big shot.

I turn for Murray Dorm, hoping to fuckin' God I'm not too late. And as I slip into a darkened walkway, police sirens whoop from behind.

Fourth quarter is down to the last few seconds. TICK, TICK, TICK.

The buzzer is about to go off.

Winner takes all.